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Tuesday, December 31st, New Year’s Eve
By the time Donovan went back to his house to shower and change and Charlotte had her own shower and got dressed, they didn’t get to Jimmy’s until nine o’clock, when the party was in full swing. There had to be at least a hundred and fifty people in the huge loft apartment.
Donovan handed his top coat to a checker and Charlotte noted that he was wearing a well-tailored, almost fitted one-button black suit with a white shirt and narrow black tie.
“I like it. A lot. You look like Kevin Bacon channeling Buddy Holly.”
“I’m flattered. I’m two years younger than Kevin Bacon, you know.” He helped her out of her coat and handed it to the clerk, barely taking his eyes off her bare shoulders and neck.
The expression on his face made her feel delicious all over. “It’s just as well,” he said, his eyes still taking it all in, and gesturing toward her overall appearance, “that I didn’t see this back at your place. You take my breath away.”
“Thank you.”
They heard lively dance music start, and he looked at her. “I don’t even know if you like to dance—it’s never come up.”
“Sometimes. Do you?”
“Depends on the music and who I’m dancing with—or how drunk I am. When I was younger dancing was just head banging to heavy metal.”
Jimmy had a jazz trio playing on a raised stage at the far end of the loft—piano, bass, and drums. The piano was a digital one in a Plexiglas housing the shape of a grand piano. Some people were dancing, but mostly they were sitting or standing and talking and laughing—and eating and drinking. There was a large bar with three tenders busy at work, and a substantial buffet.
Here and there Charlotte spotted people she knew, but for the most part it was just a great big bash, and she was glad.
Donovan put an arm around her waist. “No head banging tonight, I don’t think. Ready, sweetheart?”
“Ready, darling.”
Jimmy found them first. “Hello, young lovers.” He gave Charlotte a quick smooch on the lips and hugged Donovan. They admired his powder blue tuxedo from the 70’s, complete with ruffled shirt—and white tennis shoes. “Charlotte, you are the picture of romance. How do you like the car?”
“I love it. I would have picked it out for myself.”
Jimmy laughed. “All the better.” He pointed toward an area on one side of the room. “Helene and her beau are over there with Ellis and Jack and Shelley, and Simon is there with Philippa, who is practically holding court.” He turned to Donovan. “There are a couple of people you might want to talk to later on, if that’s okay?” He grabbed two glasses of champagne from the tray of a passing waiter, handed them to Charlotte and Donovan, and he wandered back into his party.
And then they ran into Simon.
There were about four seconds of tense silence, which of course the now-irrepressible Donovan broke by extending his hand.
“Simon.”
Simon looked uncomfortable and shook hands very briefly. “Donovan. Charlotte.” He just nodded to her, and then walked on.
“Well, that broke the ice,” said Donovan.
She shrugged. “Not our problem.”
They made their way toward Helene and Ellis.
Charlotte was taken aback by Ellis’ very short red spandex dress and black spike-heeled lace-up midcalf boots that made her almost as tall as Charlotte was in her own less-lofty heels. Her curly dark brown hair was gathered up at the crown and allowed to spill over like a fountain, adding more inches to her height, and her eye makeup was, well, interesting. She looked like a model.
Ellis, in contrast, looked at her with approval. “Mom, you look incredible. And you—” she turned to Donovan, “are totally badass.” She moved on to greet some of her friends.
“I take it she is okay about us?” asked Donovan.
“Oh yes, quite happy. I think in the court of public opinion Simon finds himself in the minority.” She looked over toward him, as did Donovan. Simon had returned with drinks for himself and Philippa, who seemed to be doing all the talking with others.
“You know, a guy like that probably hasn’t been rejected a whole lot in his lifetime,” he muttered. “Not accustomed to the sting. He’ll get over it, especially if that English Rose of his ever shuts up.”
Charlotte laughed. “C’mon. Let’s dig in. These are our friends, too.”
“Right you are, sweetheart. Long as he doesn’t throw me over the balcony.”
Before they could sit down, an old friend got her attention.
“Charlotte!” It was Martin Stanton, the estate liquidator who had handled her auction; he gave her a warm hug. “And Donovan!” The men shook hands. “You two here together?”
The three of them conversed a while. Donovan had approached him about handling the sale of the contents of his mother’s house. Then Jimmy joined them, but after a minute he whisked Donovan away to talk to “this guy I was telling you about.” Martin, who had a beautiful speaking voice, said he was going to sing a couple of songs with the band later on, which came as no surprise to Charlotte.
What did come as a surprise was the arrival of Janice Garibaldi, with a couple of Corton faculty members. Charlotte went to greet her, then stopped because Janice stared at her as if she was seeing a ghost, not even managing to say hello, and allowed herself to be led away by the group. The whole thing made her skin crawl. Stop it, she told herself. It’s nothing personal, the woman is going through her first social engagement as a widow, and it’s a bit soon. Nonetheless, she was reminded of Gani’s remark that Janice was psycho.
Martin Stanton was talking with the band. Charlotte wondered where Donovan was, and saw him talking with Jimmy and Benny Ramona—and it appeared to be a serious conversation. What was that all about?
“Charlotte!” The deep mellow woman’s voice cut through the chatter and music. Diane approached, in full party mode, giving her a bear hug, and Kelsey followed with a second one. “Did you get my email?”
“Yes, I did, and thank you. It helps to confirm what I suspected.”
“But that’s not all. I talked to Lola.”
“Oh, good! I was going to ask if you had.”
“It’s bad. She hasn’t had enough sales and commissions to live on and she lost her apartment. So she is trying to hang on until things pick up in the spring, and then maybe get back on track. I told her if that was what she wanted to do, why in the world didn’t she talk to you first—you might have even agreed to something.”
“Yeah, I might have. I just really hate being taken advantage of.”
“Exactly. She’s agreed to keep the place show-worthy and to keep the utilities in line until you decide how you want to handle it, but I told her outright that she didn’t deserve to be working as an agent, and certainly not as yours, and that, furthermore, I didn’t know if I could recommend her anymore.”
“You went hard on her.”
“I know, but I felt like my faith and trust were taken advantage of, too, because I’ve been recommending her. I’m willing to forgive, but it’s gonna be awfully hard to forget—and hey!”
Charlotte felt a now-familiar caress around her waist. Diane’s jaw dropped. “Donovan? No cane!”
Donovan laughed. “Yes! And driving again, too. Thanks to my inspiration here.” He tugged Charlotte closer and she put her own arm around his waist.
Diane didn’t say anything for a few seconds as she took it all in. “You guys—oh you guys!” She was getting more enthusiastic by the second. “Yeeessss.” She ran to give them both excited hugs. “I’m so happy to see you so happy.”
This went on for another minute or so, until Kelsey, laughing, managed to drag her away to get drinks.
“Well, looks like we have another fan,” said Donovan, drawing Charlotte to the area where people were dancing. Martin was singing a vaguely familiar standard, giving the place an almost dinner club feel.
“I’m glad, too. I want all our friends to be happy for us.” She found herself following Donovan’s lead in an easy foxtrot. “And I can’t believe I’m dancing like this.” She tilted her head to brush his nose with hers, possible because her heels made her almost as tall as him.
“I can’t either. Mom made me learn when I was a kid. But this is fun. Gives me an excuse to rub up against you in public.”
“Anytime.” She stumbled a little as she laughed, but he caught her by the waist and gently swung her around. His legs might still be hit and miss, she thought, but those arms were wonderfully strong. “Sorry about that. I never really learned.”
“You’re doing well. It’ll get better the more we do it, like most things.” He raised her arm for her to turn then brought her back into position as the song ended.
“Thank you for that. It was unexpected.”
Martin Stanton took the microphone again. “This one is a very special request, for Charlotte, from Donovan.”
Charlotte turned to Donovan in surprise. “What is this?”
He grinned. “A very old song.” He drew her close for a slow dance and spoke close to her ear. “After you left on Christmas Eve, I couldn’t sleep. I’d just revealed myself to you, the closest friend I had, maybe the biggest gamble in my life. Watched old movies half the night. Casablanca. That song has been in my head ever since.”
Martin began to sing. You must remember this, a kiss is just a kiss, a sigh is just a sigh. The fundamental things apply, as time goes by.
She rested her head against him. Martin had the perfect voice for the song, pure poetry, taking the romance so far past schmaltz it came back around to absolutely genuine. She smiled when she saw that Helene and Gottfried were among those dancing, too. She felt herself following Donovan’s lead without thinking, dancing as one with him, fully in the moment.
Woman needs man, and man must have his mate, that no one can deny.
Whatever else life brought, she was going to remember this song, this dance, for the rest of her life.
Oh yes, the world will always welcome lovers, as time goes by.
In the way of parties, people come and go, talk in passing, and Charlotte eventually found herself chatting with Aslan while Donovan was pinned between an intense Philippa, who looked like she was trying to interview him, and an enthusiastic Shelley. Simon and Jack were talking to a couple of perky young women she didn’t know, but she was well familiar with the looks on both men’s faces, and laughed to herself.
“Where is Ellis, anyway?” she wondered aloud.
Aslan pointed to a shadowy corner. “I think that’s Jimmy’s grandson she’s talking to.”
Jimmy’s grandson, to Charlotte’s surprise, was part Asian, and looked about eighteen or nineteen. He was sitting on a loveseat with a violin and bow next to him. Ellis was in an armchair at right angles to him, talking with great seriousness while gesturing in a way that said the topic was musical performance. Then he jumped in, and the conversation seemed to almost turn into an argument.
“Interesting scene, isn’t it? Two musical geniuses battling it out in words. I hope they play something tonight—wouldn’t that be amazing?”
Charlotte looked at her. “You know, it probably would be.”
“Jimmy said that it’s open mike after midnight.”
As much as Ellis had said she wanted and needed to see Charlotte, she seemed to be avoiding anything other than superficial conversations with her, an observation she shared a little while later with Helene.
“She is almost seventeen,” said Helene, “and there is not much you can do about it anymore.”
“You don’t think she’s too young?”
“Young is a relative concept, Charlotte, you know that. Have confidence in her.”
“It’s probably that Jean-Luc fellow she swooned about. I’ve read about him online. Way too old for her but very young for a faculty member, looks quite pleased with himself.”
“Isn’t there one of those in nearly every girl’s life?” Helene paused. “It doesn’t mean she’s realized her fantasy.”
“I just get the feeling something’s been realized. The giddiness and the giggles are gone. She’s filled out, she’s assured and reserved. This is not the same girl that played at the state competition last spring.”
“I should hope not, Charlotte. Ellis only has so much time to take advantage of her days at the Conservatoire, and one of the first things that needed to happen was to start to grow up, to experience things. You wouldn’t want her to remain an innocent forever, would you?”
“No,” Charlotte agreed with a great deal of reluctance, “I guess not.”
“That being said, would you mind if I talked to her? If I learn anything troubling, I’ll let you know. I’d love to chat about her studies and I’m sure the topic will cover teachers both young and old, handsome and not.”
Charlotte smiled. Sometimes grandmother-figures are less of a threat than mothers. “Be my guest.”
A pleasant shared stillness set in, in both the conversation and in Charlotte’s mind. So many things had happened in the last week, and especially in the last few days, it was good to have a chance to regain her equilibrium.
“So,” Helene broke the silence, “Donovan.”
Charlotte couldn’t keep the happiness suppressed if she tried. “Yes.”
“Oh, you are so in love, Charlotte!” Helene spoke tenderly. “And I’ve never seen a man transform the way he has. That smile of his when he’s around you—I haven’t seen that since he was a little boy. It makes all the dark things that brought the two of you together worth enduring.”
Some of Charlotte’s exchanges with friends and acquaintances were pleasant and superficial, others pleasant in a more meaningful way, such as the one with Ellis’ stepmother Shelley, which left her feeling more confident about Ellis having a responsible parent nearby in Paris. Jack might have settled down a bit, but he was still Jack.
Then there was the brief exchange with Simon.
They had again almost run into each other, and he attempted to just walk around her without saying a word, but she grasped his arm to make him stop.
“This is ridiculous,” she said.
“What is?”
“We should be perfectly capable of still being cordial. It’s not like we were engaged or anything.”
“And a good thing, evidently.”
“A very good thing. We would never have the ease you have with Philippa. The two of you are a natural. You should be happy—if not for us both, at least for yourself.”
He looked down at his glass. “That is true.”
Then he looked up at her as if he made up his mind about something. “You’re right.” He nodded at her and walked on.
It still left her feeling a little weird around the edges.
Midnight was getting close. Servers were bringing trays full of champagne-filled glasses through the crowd. Charlotte moved toward Donovan, but didn’t interrupt, choosing to stand in front of one of the beautiful tall windows that looked out over downtown Elm Grove.
Jimmy took the microphone to let everyone know the countdown would soon begin, and at midnight they’d be able to see the fireworks in the park from the windows. She saw Donovan look up suddenly, then rise in the middle of a conversation with Helene’s beau Gottfried, and turn almost instinctively to where she was standing. His concerned expression opened up into his smile and he pushed through the clutter of legs and low side tables as if it was brush obstructing a path in the woods. The countdown started as he whirled to find a waiter with a glass of champagne, grabbed one, and walked to her as if those many weeks in a wheelchair or struggling with a walker were nothing more than a bad dream.
They looked at one another as the count went to “three, two, one,” welcoming the New Year with their eyes as much as their kiss, in a world of their own amid the cheers, the music, and the blasts from the fireworks over the city park.
Martin and the musicians wrapped up with “Auld Lang Syne,” and Jimmy took the microphone. “Keep the party going, folks. It’s open mike. I know we have a lot of musical talent in this room, so whatever it is, country, rock or classical, bring it on up here, give us a good time.”
The youngest guests were the quickest to take him up on it, many of them rather good, accompanied by digital backups. Charlotte spotted Ellis talking to Jimmy’s grandson again. She pointed him out to Donovan.
“Jimmy’s grandson?”
He nodded. “Nathaniel Bahn. Jimmy is a Vietnam vet, brought a wife home with him. They had a couple of daughters—one married another Vietnamese-American, and that’s her kid.”
“Funny how I never thought of Jimmy as being married. I have never seen him with anyone, nor has he mentioned anyone.”
“That guy is full of surprises. He and his wife had an amicable divorce, whatever the hell that is, but he never remarried.”
“Saw you talking with him and Benny Ramona earlier. Something afoot?”
“Spotted that, didn’t you? Yeah, it’s something I want to talk to you about some time, but for some reason or other we seem to get distracted by other things.”
Nathaniel Bahn, in black jeans, gray tee, and black tuxedo jacket, hopped up on the stage to take the mike next. While he spoke, Ellis quietly took her place at the piano, making some adjustments on a digital box.
Nathaniel introduced himself and Ellis, and explained that what they were about to do. They had never played together before, he said, and agreed to start with a “simple” duet, the Dvorak Sonatina in G major Opus 100—and see where it went from there. Ellis had the digital score on a screen in front of her, and there was another on top of the piano for Nathaniel.
It started out respectably, tentative at first as they got the hang of interweaving their triplets with eighth notes, but by the time they repeated the opening bars they were in full swing. Nathaniel began to improvise, nodding vigorously and even sort of dancing around the piano to keep the time as he played. Ellis picked up on what he was doing to add improvisations of her own, also bobbing in time with him, her fluffy hair adding another kinetic element. Many people in the room were moving in time along with their spirited performance. Every so often either Ellis or Nathaniel would dip back down into the score as written just long enough to pick up on the melodic line, then take off again with a more contemporary flair. Finally, they adhered to the original score in the concluding bars, playing in sync rather than in counter point, pulling the entire venture into a coherent musical whole before going out with a bang.
Donovan clapped loud and proud along with Charlotte. “It must be incredible to have such a talented child.”
“It’s incredible to have any child at all.”
He nodded. “Every now and then I wish we’d met twenty years ago, even fifteen. This is one of them.”
“We weren’t the same people back then.”
“We weren’t the same people a week ago, sweetheart.”
Ellis was glowing as she came over, Nathaniel in tow, and introduced him to Charlotte and Donovan, then took him to meet Jack and Shelley and Helene.
Charlotte was happy, proud, and tired. “Want to head back to the apartment?” she asked Donovan.
He looked tired, too, yet his expression managed to capture everything they were all about. “More than you know.”